Pretty Girl
by Aiyh-Sa
Summary: Based on "Celia" by Catherine Robinson. When Byron and Celia are left alone, can she trust him with her secret?


I do not own any of the characters from "Celia". They belong to Catherine Robinson.  
  
Celia lay back on her bed, staring at the letter clutched in her hand. It wasn't supposed to go like this. When she had started the search all those long months ago, she had pictured Genevieve as an angst-ridden teenager just like her, her life helplessly falling apart all because of her child, a baby born to her before she had even finished school. Celia had imagined her mother to be a caring, quiet, lonely, mysterious young woman, but what she had found was a successful, young-at-heart businesswoman, who she could hardly relate to at all. Placing the letter carefully back on her bedside table, Celia switched off her lamp, but not before gazing longingly at the letter for a while, as if she could will time to repeat itself, and to change just for her, so that her mother would be just as she had pictured, and so that she never came back home. She was happy to be home, to be with her parents and her little brother again, but deep down inside her, she felt a longing to be back with Gareth and the others. She had felt more at home there than anywhere else, and even though Byron had changed overnight, she still felt something for him. As soon as she switched off the light, however, her head started to spin. A roaring noise echoed inside her ears, and suddenly she felt as though her insides were on fire; her whole body was burning up, the whole world spinning madly around her, pinning her to her bed...  
  
"Celia? Celia, are you okay?"  
  
"Gareth! Shut up and let the poor girl sleep!"  
  
Celia opened her eyes wearily, trying to clear her mind of the jumbled thoughts that flashed in her mind. Wasn't she just at home, in bed? It took a while to realise what happened, but realisation slowly dawned on her, and she sighed inwardly. It was all just a dream. Her mother, Edward's accident, her return home - none of it had actually happened. She was still with the gypsies, and from what she could tell, her illness had not yet left her. She glanced around the room, finding it difficult to even raise her own head off the pillow, and saw that it was night time. She could just make out the silhouettes of Lowri and Gareth, standing at the end of the bed, watching her. Lowri leaned over and pressed the back of her hand against Celia's head, checking her temperature.  
  
"Are you feeling okay, cariad?" she asked quietly, and Celia nodded slightly, despite the fact that she felt as though her head would explode if she moved too much. Lowri smiled, then turned to her son.  
  
"Come on Gareth," she called, walking over to the door. "We'd better give Celia some peace and quiet, she needs her rest." With that Lowri and Gareth left the room, leaving Celia alone with her thoughts. If this was reality, just how much had been a dream? She knew that Edward's accident and her finding her mother were not reality, but what about the rest? Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered Byron. She knew he was real, but just how much had actually happened? Was he only a jerk in her dream, or was that reality too? Her eyes flickered to the right as she saw a shadow moving to the window, then another one met it and they began talking. As Celia's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was Byron, talking to Lowri, and his hair was the same as before she had collapsed, his black dreadlocks hanging just below his broad shoulders. Smiling to herself, Celia shut her eyes and drifted off to sleep, badly wanting to speak to Byron as soon as possible.  
  
Celia awoke to the sound of thumping and cursing. She struggled to sit up, but after several failed attempts, she chose to lie back on her bed, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. Eventually she heard a motorbike engine begin to growl noisily outside the caravan, followed by a loud, resonating explosion, and louder cursing. She watched in amusement as Gareth walked up the steps into the caravan, his face blackened with dust and soot. She grinned, finding it hard to contain herself. Gareth stopped and looked at her, and his eyes narrowed as he tried to look angry and tough, but failing miserably.  
  
"What's so funny?" He asked, trying to hide his embarrassment, and Celia burst out laughing, unable to stop herself anymore. Instead of looking hurt as Celia thought he would, Gareth grinned, and walked up to her. "Well, at least it's good to see you well again," he said, then stopped as he saw Celia studying him, smirking. "What?"  
  
"Oh, nothing," Celia replied, smiling cheekily. "I was just wondering - how did you get to look like a chimneysweep?" Gareth blushed slightly, then shrugged as if it was no big deal.  
  
"I was helping Byron fix his bike, but the he sorta went off for a minute and I had a bit of trouble and -" he stopped dead, noticing how Celia blushed as he mentioned Byron's name, and grinned. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you," he said, smiling innocently. "We've all gotta go out to try and get more food and supplies, but Byron is too tired to go after he spent most of the morning working on his bike, so it'll just be you and him until we get back. That okay?" Celia nodded, trying to seem cool and laid back about the whole situation, but she could feel her heart thumping madly inside her ribcage, and her stomach flutter as if it had dissolved and turned into a hoard of butterflies. She was going to spend time alone with Byron! Still, however much she wanted to see him, something inside her told her no, that she shouldn't trust him. She remembered the dream so well, and she still wasn't sure how much of it was real, and how much was mere fantasy. Suddenly, Lowri's voice called out from somewhere outside the caravan, and Gareth turned to walk away.  
  
"Well, gotta go," he said, grinning. "I'll just leave you and Byron alone now. See ya!" With that he left, and Celia felt ready to whack him over the back of the head with her DMs, but then decided against it, seeing as how she could hardly move. Instead, she lay back against her pillow, trying to overcome her initial feelings of uncertainty and distrust towards Byron. It was just stupid, she reasoned with herself, why worry about some pathetic dream? She was interrupted from her thoughts as she heard the caravan door squeak open. She glanced over nervously, fighting to maintain her calm exterior, but all her anxiety dissipated as she saw Byron walk into the caravan. His black dreadlocks hung carelessly over his face, yet his deep blue eyes still shone through, as dark and beautiful as the night sky. His handsome face was slightly tanned from being out in the sun for so long, and his large muscles were clearly defined through his thin t-shirt. He smiled at her, a warm, sexy smile that made her forget she had ever doubted him, and made her want to just be in his arms forever. She smiled back despite her severe headache, and he came and sat by her on the bed, brushing his dark dreadlocks away from his face, before turning to look at her. As she gazed into his dark eyes, Celia knew for sure that she could trust him. What she remembered was only a dream, nothing more. This was reality, and in reality, Byron could be trusted. He wouldn't ever hurt her, she could tell from the moment he had walked in the caravan. Byron sighed, obviously wanting to say something, but finding it hard. The two youngsters sat in silence for a few moments, before Byron looked at Celia again and smiled.  
  
"How are you feeling?" He asked, and Celia smiled back at him.  
  
"Not too bad," she replied. "Well, so maybe my head does hurt, my chest feels as though it's buried under a load of bricks, and I can hardly even move, but apart from that, great!" They both laughed, but then Byron suddenly looked thoughtful, and again seemed unsure of what to say. He sighed, and turned back to Celia.  
  
"Listen," he began, struggling to find the right words. "People don't just end up in empty buildings for no reason. I can tell you're not from around here, so it's obvious you came here for a reason." Celia gulped lightly, her eyes widening with fear.  
  
"How can you tell?"  
  
"Your accent gives it away," he explained, smiling, and Celia's nervousness faded. "Anyway, I think it's time you told us what's really going on." Celia looked away, her ginger hair hiding the fear evident on her face. When she looked up again, she could see that there was no point hiding anything from Byron. He was clearly concerned for her, and once again, she felt as though she could trust him with any secret. She took a deep breath, and told him everything; about how she ran away from home, about the inn, her job as an au pair, and all about her quest to find her real mother, and even about her dream. Throughout this time, Byron remained quiet, his cool exterior never faltering as he listened to what she had to say. After she had told him all about what had happened, she stopped, reality crashing down on her. After all this time she still hadn't found her mother, she had only dreamt it, and even then it hadn't been perfect. She tried to choke back the tears that rose in her throat, but eventually they became to much for her, and she broke down into tears, unable to stop, not caring if Byron thought she was weak because of this. However, Byron simply put a comforting hand on her arm, brushing her hair out of her eyes and smiling at her.  
  
"Don't worry," he said quietly, desperately wishing he could help her, trying to think of a way to calm her and heal her emotional wounds, but knowing it was nearly impossible. "You've gone so far, and I know you will find her eventually. Anyway, even if your evil father doesn't want you back home, you'll always have a place here." Celia laughed at Byron's accurate description of her father, then broke down into even more tears, her heavy sobs feeling like lead against her chest. Byron leant over and gathered her up in his arms, and Celia buried her head against his muscular chest, feeling comforted by the strong arms around her, protecting her from everything, so that all the bad things in her world disappeared, and there was only her and Byron. He gently tilted her head up to him, and kissed her. She kissed back, and this time it wasn't like in the dream. This time was different. This time she knew she loved him, and it felt right. She felt safe with him, and deep in her heart she wasn't even sure that she wanted to find her real mother after all. She just wanted to be with Byron.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity that Celia didn't want to end, they broke away and looked at each other, and again Celia felt entranced by his eyes. She smiled, and he gently lowered her back onto the bed, before smiling back.  
  
"You feeling better now?" He asked in a slightly amused tone, and she nodded. "Well, I better go and finish off the bike," he explained, making his way to the door. "The others will be back soon, and if they see me still working on it when they get back, they'll either think I can't fix bikes anymore, or I had the most stupid accident ever on that thing, and neither of those would be good." With that he walked out the door, but Celia stopped him. He looked over at her, and she grinned.  
  
"In reality, you wouldn't get your hair cut and dyed red, would you?" She asked, and Byron stared at her in confusion, before laughing.  
  
"No, I doubt it," he laughed, and walked out of the caravan. Celia smiled to herself, knowing that she didn't have to search anymore. She had finally found her true family. 


End file.
